


Bound By The Surprise

by Lavellington



Series: Home is so sad (221b drabbles) [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221 b drabbles, 221B Ficlet, Gen, M/M, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-31 21:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavellington/pseuds/Lavellington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Remind me again why I’m still sharing a flat with you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound By The Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Aderyn and I are involved in a game- we each had to write a 221b drabble based on the following piece of poetry (mine from John's POV and hers from Sherlock's)
> 
> Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape.  
> It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know,  
> Have always known, know that we can’t escape,  
> Yet can’t accept.
> 
> -Philip Larkin.
> 
> The game is on!
> 
> (Yes, I did steal my title from Adele's Someone Like You. What of it? We're all allowed one cliche, surely?)

One day, during a “vital” experiment that involved Sherlock smashing willow patterned china (inside a pillowcase) with a claw hammer, John asked the big question:

“Remind me again why I’m still sharing a flat with you?”

Sherlock made a hmm-ing noise in the back of his throat and said, “Your endless supply of affection for me?”

“Oh, is that what that is? It’s not an emotion I usually associate with a desire to chuck someone out of a window.”

“The last time I chucked someone out of a window,” Sherlock said matter-of-factly, and John buried his face in his hands to hide his laughter, “It was entirely motivated by the strength of my affection.”

“I know,” John said, from behind his fingers. “But I’m still not supposed to condone it.” 

“Your fake disapproval is becoming less and less convincing,” Sherlock said airily, pounding the pillowcase with a series of tinkling crunches.

John laughed out loud and thought, not with hyperbole or forced sentimentality, but with a burst of sudden, bemused clarity: _I’ve never been this happy._

Two months later, John found a pillowcase full of smashed china fragments wedged behind the sofa and thought, _I wonder what he was trying to prove?_

He remembered the sensation of laughing at Sherlock on a Monday afternoon, and the way Sherlock had grinned back.


End file.
